


Taste (More Than Enough)

by Meowser_Clancy



Series: Jimel Moments [7]
Category: Ghost Whisperer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 12:32:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7684663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meowser_Clancy/pseuds/Meowser_Clancy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because both Jim and Melinda had some thinking to do. Tag to 3x16: Deadbeat Dads, before and during Melinda telling Jim that she was ready.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taste (More Than Enough)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ghostwhispererfangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostwhispererfangirl/gifts).



As Jim considered what he'd said to Melinda he got more and more frustrated with himself.

Why had he spoken to her like that? What had possessed him? Just the...pain...of watching Kate, Nina and Rick dance around each other like morons, embroiling Melinda and him in their idiot fight?

Honestly. He didn't mind when they were strangers. But somehow the blatant way that the Paynes were unapologetically using Melinda to further compound their dilemma—Jim hated it.

He would have thought that he (and Melinda) were better adjusted, had a more functional marriage than Rick and Kate. And god, he did not want to be that couple. The couple who let children—a lack of or overabundance—come between them in any way. Having been raised as a loose Catholic, Jim had soaked up some of the teaching regarding children. They were a part of marriage—but they weren't always. Infertile couples were not called to adopt twelve children, not necessarily. Family meant two people: husband and wife. And he and Melinda had been family since the day they said 'I do'.

And kids—or no kids—god, Jim hated himself for thinking that lack of kids lessened he and Melinda's relationship in any way.

She wasn't ready. And as much as he regretted that, sometimes wanted to just tell her that _no one was ever ready to have kids_ , he so fully knew where she was coming from. The deep hurt in her heart that, healed or not, still couldn't be erased. The marks were there, healed or not. And he couldn't say that they didn't matter. Because they did. They meant everything to his wife; she'd become the person she was by seeing how much people needed love; the love she hadn't gotten after her grandmother had died, and even then...just one person wasn't enough. Not when it wasn't your parents.

Jim. He himself had been helped by her, so damn much. And the pain, the worries, the stress...it all disappeared when she was there, when he got home and he could just soak her in; even when she wasn't physically in the house, he'd just sit in the kitchen (largely decorated by Melinda) or the living room (looking at their few pieces of antique furniture handpicked by Melinda) or even in their bed, waiting for her to come home, smelling her perfume on the sheets, just feeling enveloped by her.

He loved her. And she gave him love and support and even her blessing to go to medical school anywhere in the country when she didn't even want to leave Grandview and good god, she loved him and that had been all that mattered to her when she'd made the decision, when she'd told him yes, when she'd told him everywhere.

So her not being ready and Jim letting it become an issue…

He realized, with disgusting clarity, that the problem wasn't that Melinda was being like Rick.

It was that Jim was being like Kate.

He sighed, shift over, going to his truck. It was time to go home. He had so much to say to her.

* * *

She was waiting for him, looking beautiful in blue and anxiety powering her movements, hands moving nervously over herself.

And he was so, so sorry. The wedding china was out.

"Just celebrating life," Melinda told him when he asked and his heart jumped, thumping hard in his chest. Oh god.

"Look, I'm sorry about today. I. . . I'm not mad if that's what this is about," Jim managed, trying to get the words out, assure her that he'd never bring it up again until she was ready. Until they were ready. And that it...it wasn't a dealbreaker, by any meaning of the word.

And Melinda was speaking, about not going the future and that he was right, and Jim couldn't even breathe as he looked at his wife, saying words that he'd only just accepted might never come from her mouth.

"Let's have a baby," Melinda said, and Jim felt tears in his eyes.

"Don't do this just for me," he begged, stepping closer to her, only wanting to bring her into his arms, show her how very much this meant to him.

"No, it's for us. Life is too short. You know?" Melinda smiled so wide at him, holding her hands out. "What the hell are we waiting for?"

"Oh, god, I love you," he whispered, as she threw herself into his arms and he pulled her tight, so completely in love with her, all over again, because she always, always exceeded any expectation he might have had of what she'd choose.

"I love you," she whispered back, a smile in her voice and he was so ready, to just start trying here and now.

And then there was a knock on the door. And he remembered that he should shower before they did anything and it would be Carl...

* * *

He wasn't yet in the shower when Melinda came upstairs, poking her head into the bedroom.

"Jim?" She asked, voice full of worry, and he instantly paused getting undressed, wondering if she'd changed her mind.

"Yeah, Mel?" He asked.

She just stared at him for a moment, nude but for his boxers. "Carl came by," she said.

"Yeah, I know," Jim said, and comprehension dawned. "Oh god, Mel. Did he...is your father…"

"No, I mean, I don't know, he gave me a file," Melinda said. "He wrote these numbers on it and then when I asked him what they were he said he didn't remember doing that."

She inhaled sharply.

Jim walked forward, pulling her into his arms. "Then where's the file folder? We can look at it together."

"I don't want to look at it right now," she mumbled into his chest and he pulled back, sure he'd gotten it wrong, because Melinda on a mission was unstoppable.

"We can look—" He began, but Melinda rose up on her toes and pressed her lips to his, effectively cutting off the conversation.

"I want you to be my child's father," she finally said, breaking away after a very heated kiss. "I don't him or her to ever wonder if they're loved, cherished…" Her voice broke, and she kissed him again, tongue tangling with his, hands tight around his neck.

She tasted like tears and wine.

Jim pulled her even closer, scooping her up into his arms. "Is the oven or something on?" He managed to ask. "Since you were making dinner?"

"No," she whispered, one hand coming up to caress his cheek. "God, even when you're making love to me you're responsible."

He just laughed, low in his chest.

"Crockpot and some biscuits staying hot in a turned off oven," she whispered. "We're good."

"It could be special," he began. "We could take our time. I'll finish my shower and we can have dinner…" He pressed a hot kiss to her collarbone. "Turn on some music. You could dress up, we could make a night of it."

"It will be special," she said, surprising him by winding her arms his neck, abruptly pulling him onto her with a gasp from both of them. "It's us. Make love to me, Jim. Please. Let's make a baby."

The words were like honey to his ears, not as groundbreaking as they'd been downstairs, but just as welcome, and Jim moaned, capturing her lips.

This was it. They were ready, they were going to try. Melinda was going to carry his child.

He felt dizzy just thinking about it, rolling onto his back and bringing her onto his chest, slowly edging up the fabric on her dress, pausing to wind his hands in her hair, remembering how she'd looked earlier that day, hair so tousled.

How she'd looked yesterday at Payne's house, lips plump, eyes wide, as she tried to figure out what he was thinking about.

They'd gone from making out to rescuing Payne. Again.

He felt like that happened way too much lately. So many damn times, taking Melinda into his arms, climbing into bed with her, into the shower and he'd call and damn it, she'd just drop everything and leave. And he got that. Rick was unique to her. He was the first person who loved her because of her gift and not in spite of it, or just through it like Jim. He liked her for what she do, for who she was, her gift and Jim couldn't deny that.

But sometimes it just felt like that excitement, that need inside her to be loved for every part, but to be loved for individual parts too, for little things, for different ones by each person in her life.

And he'd be lying to say that he didn't feel like that sometimes too. That he wanted to be appreciated by Melinda for what he could give to her, but knowing that what he gave to her was vastly different than what he gave to other people. And Melinda was different around Payne; because she could be.

But he was tired of it, nonetheless. Tired of Payne never thanking Melinda for mopping up all of his messes. Tired of Payne using Melinda, and even Jim sometimes.

But what did he care about Payne?

Melinda was here, Melinda was now, whimpering as he kissed her over and over, sighing into his mouth, more than ready for him.

He slid his hands from her hair again, to the tie on her dress, and easily undid the sash, going to the hem of the dress to pull it up her thighs more.

God, he loved this woman. God, he loved how easily he could bring her to this moment, of need, of want, of lust. How easily she could do the same to him.

He brought the dress around her waist, his hands playing with her toned stomach, excitement pouring over when he thought that she might be soon having his baby. That thought was just too good.

Her legs were whisper soft where they straddled his abs, warm, pliable, and her core was right there, hot on his low stomach.

She rocked backwards, moving herself onto him, making them both startle a little, as the pleasure mounted, and then Jim moaned, whipping the dress the rest of the way over her head, seeing how it revealed her, every beautiful inch, from her delicate neck to the way her breasts were encased in one of his favorite bras…

But the bra didn't matter. What mattered was taking it off. But he did love this one; it was black but covered in neon shapes, crazy and zany and sexy, especially sexy because he knew he was the only one he'd see it on her. And she usually went for either practical or silky lingerie and he just loved seeing the silly stuff on her too.

But again, what mattered was taking it off.

Her eyes glowed down at him, and she bent over him, lowering herself until he undid the clasp, and the moan he received from her upon doing so pushed him onward, until his mouth landed on her breasts and she arched up to him, moaning loudly.

And he loved this moment, where she just let go, gave herself up entirely to him, let him pleasure her. Where it was just them, shutting out the world, embracing each other.

He stayed at her breasts for so long, basking in her glory, finding every valley and dip, kissing each spot until she was hot and flushed beneath him, just waiting for him to bring her the rest of the way, patient, eager.

And he was just waiting for her to get crazy, to bring her to the tipping point.

His fingers slipped down to her thighs, skirting up them, caressing her there. He was so ready to just have everything, no condom, welcome to anything and everything, and she was wet, but not ready enough and oh god, this was a challenge now.

He was going to make her crazy. Crazy forever, crazy for him, crazy in love, crazy with child.

"Oh, Jim, take me," she moaned, but that was too articulate, not wild enough, and he slid her panties down, casting them aside, and she was so ready.

"Come on," she panted, hands at his boxers. "Please."

His lips moved to her neck, tugging at the skin there, swirling over her, nipping on her shoulder and her hands on his back clenched.

"I want to finish together," she finally whispered, barely grinding the words out. "Please, Jim. Let's finish together."

And that was why she'd been holding back.

He felt like crying, like screaming up to sky how much his wife loved him, felt like pounding on his chest in exaltation because he loved his wife and she loved him.

She got his boxers off, wheedled him out of them, and he slid into her, her slick depths amazing him, because they were so close, nothing separating them, as nothing ever should.

"You're mine," she whimpered as he pounded into her, his hips gliding to meet hers, in and out, until they finally finished, and she clutched at him, keeping him there. "You are so good to me."

"Oh, god, Mel, I can never thank you enough," Jim murmured. "I can never tell you enough." He pulled back, tears in his eyes as he looked down at his lovely wife. "I can never love you enough."

"Oh, darling," she breathed, the word making his breath catch because they just didn't have pet names, so it meant so...he pressed a kiss to her lips...so important, so special, so intimate. "You love me too much."

"No such thing," he vowed, hands gliding over her, ready to try again. "No such thing."


End file.
